


Breaking up the break-up

by MashiarasDream



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, cw: mentions of self-harm, set during the ‘breakup phase’ at the end of 2011, the guys are blockheads, the wives are awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream/pseuds/MashiarasDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a kiss (and a tweet about a naked upper body), followed by a freak out and radio silence between Jensen and Misha. Finally, Danneel just can’t take it anymore. She calls Vicki to figure out what's going on.</p><p>“You’re glum. He’s heartbroken. You’re driving the rest of the world crazy with it. Mainly Vicki and me. You need to work this out."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking up the break-up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keepcalmanddonotblink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepcalmanddonotblink/gifts).



> It’s all keepcalmanddonotblink’s fault. Because she dreamed about Cockles. 
> 
> This is the timeline I used:  
> Danneel and Jensen got married in May 2010, West was born in Sept 2010  
> The tweet happened in early October 2011 at ChiCon, Asylum 7 took place in late October 2011.  
> Filming of S7 took place between Jul 2011 and Apr 2012.  
> For this story, I’m assuming Castiel was supposed to stay dead and Misha got re-hired relatively shortly before he came back (that was in Episode 7.17, filmed at the end of January 2012).  
> Under this assumption, Misha likely already had nothing to lose on the day of the fateful tweet

**The Collins**

Vicki gets off the phone with Danneel. It’s not their first phone call. Actually, it’s the third one this week. According to common wisdom, they should make her feel worse. This woman is the wife of the man Vicki’s husband is pining after, after all.

Though Vicki isn’t sure whether ‘pining’ is the right word anymore. Destroying himself over this man is closer to the truth. Pining sounds too normal and healthy. And the man she’s living with is currently neither of the above.

It doesn’t help that he’s not filming anymore. He’s got projects, yeah, he always has. But then someone mentions Supernatural or Vancouver or, hell, even just Canada, and Misha looks like he got gutted. Like his insides are going to spill out any second. Then, within moments, his face goes back to a carefully constructed blank, and Vicki has to avert her eyes to not start crying right then and there.

Misha still goes to cons, of course, but he doesn’t do it with the same easy smile that he used to have. Vicki’s watched a few of the videos fans took. She doesn’t get through them, though. There was that story about their engagement, and the way Misha tore up, yeah, she couldn’t watch it.

She makes her way to the nursery. “Misha?”

Misha’s sitting in the rocking chair, watching West sleep. Vicki is glad for West. For many reasons, but also because sitting with West, playing with him, feeding him, even changing his diapers, these are the only times Misha is lively and almost normal these days.

“Shh, he’s sleeping.”

“I know,” she nods and grabs the baby phone off the table. “Come on, let him sleep in peace.”

“You go. I’ll stay here.”

“Misha,” Vicki pleads. “Please.”

But Misha shakes his head and looks back at West instead of at her.

Suddenly, it’s all too much and her knees give out. She lets herself slide to the ground, back against the wall. “I want you back, Mish. I want my husband back.” She whispers it and Misha gives no indication that he’s heard her.

Vicki closes her eyes, lets her head fall back against the wall. Thinks back to the talk she’s just had with Danneel. She’d thought it might be her fault. That Jensen had cut Misha out of his life because of her. But Danneel hadn’t even known. She’d had her suspicions, but she hadn’t known until Vicki confirmed. Probably wasn’t fair play to confirm when Jensen had kept it secret. But Christmas is approaching and Misha is goddamn obnoxious and self-destructive when he’s morose. Who can blame her if she doesn’t want to carry that on her own?

Speaking of self-destructive.

“Did you eat?” she asks and does her best to use her stern mom-voice, no matter how far away from her fragile mood that is.

“Of course,” Misha nods.

She knows that tone. It’s meant to keep her calm and off his back. But she’s had to clean blood away before, after he’s told her in that same tone that he was fine. “Misha? What did you eat? And how much of it?”

“An apple,” he says grudgingly.

Vicki bites her lip. One apple all day. “We’re eating dinner together. And you’re going to eat your whole portion.”

“You don’t have to do this. I’m okay.” It sounds anything but.

“She’s more like you than you are like you these days, you know that?”

That at least peaks his interest enough to ask, “She?”

“Danneel.” It’s a calculated risk, and Vicki makes sure to look at her husband when she says it.

The hurt flashes over his face before he works on smoothing his features into indifference. Not that it works. They know each other too well.

“She’s got your weird sense of humor, you know? You’d appreciate her. I do.”

“Great. Why don’t you leave me for her then.” The pain is palpable and even Misha himself flinches when the words come out of his mouth. He’s far gone, but not that far. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Vicki nods in acknowledgement but doesn’t react to it otherwise. Lashing out has always been part of Misha’s last defense circle, when he is too desperate for anything else. “He didn’t. Leave you because of her. Thought you might want to know.”

Misha shakes his head in an angry aborted movement. “He left because of Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester’s got higher priority than me. God forbid someone endangers Dean Fucking Winchester. What does it matter if real people get hurt?”

The impulse to get up and sling her arms around her husband is hard to curb. But Misha wouldn’t appreciate it. He never does when he’s bitter like this. Just mumbles something about getting smothered and flees the room.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re wrong, Mish. This wasn’t about publicity and his job. I think he got scared of his feelings for you. And that he wants you back.”

Misha snorts a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, right.”

It’s hard to talk to him when he’s like this. God, it’s so hard. “I knew before you knew, right? That you had a crush? Just trust me on this.”

“You should have talked me out of it back then. Texans. Nothing good ever comes of affairs with Texans.”

“Discriminating against a state won’t help.”

“Child actors, then. Models,” Misha hisses, “people who grew up rich, who never got bullied. Who don’t understand.”

“You’re not less than him,” Vicki says because she knows how he struggles with this. How he looks at all that he’s built and still sometimes all he sees is the child that doesn’t fit in. Who lives in a tent. Who wears nail polish to school and gets beaten up for it.

“No need to tell _me_ ,” Misha shoots back.

Vicki nods, soothing, though there is every need to tell him. She doubts any of this has even crossed Jensen’s mind. Not the way Danneel describes him. Not the way Misha described him before all of this went down.

He’d gone from raving about the chemistry that Castiel and Dean shared to raving about Jensen in no time. Had acknowledged their differences, yes, but the two of them had spent so much time talking and learning to understand each other. Vicki is hard-pressed to believe that Jensen could have forgotten all of that over one tweet. She is much more prone to thinking that this is Jensen’s big gay freak-out because he got kissed by a guy and he liked it. He is from Texas after all.

“You should try talking to him. Let him explain.”

It isn’t even worth the breath spent on the words, she knows. Short of Jensen himself making the first step, Misha will stubbornly suffer through this and bring everyone around him down with him.

“At least stop going to cons then. Stop putting yourself through this,” she begs.

“It’s reliable income,” Misha says stubbornly.

Vicki sighs. That is true, of course. “I’m not sure it’s worth it. We’ve lived of less. We can do it again.”

“No.” There is no energy in Misha’s headshake, but there is a quiet sort of strength. “I won’t do that to you. Not now of all times.” He gestures towards West and then runs his hands through his hair, visibly pulling himself together as best as he can. Finally, he gives her a small smile. “We’ll eat dinner together tonight, okay?”

It’s a small thing. It shouldn’t make her insanely grateful. But it’s more than she’s gotten in a while. Not just because of the time they’ll spend together. But because eating means taking care of yourself. It means wanting to be around. And that relieves her to no end.

Vicki says nothing of this, though, she just nods with a warm smile and gets up. “I’ll go make your favorite pasta then.”

 

**The Ackles**

“Jensen?” Danneel is sitting on the living room couch, tapping her phone against her leg. A thoughtful frown creases her forehead. That’s never a good sign for him.

“Uhh, yes, honey?”

“When have you last talked to Misha?”

“What?” His voice squeaks, he’s so taken off guard. “Uhh, he’s not, he’s home with Vicki, you know that, why do you want to know this?” He thinks he can see something that’s almost bordering on pity in his wife’s eyes while he stutters his way through that sentence.

“I think you should call him,” she says evenly and throws him the phone in an unexpected underarm throw that he fumbles to catch. Seriously, he’s better at catching than this normally. The next moment, he realizes the double entendre in what he’s just thought, and by the way his face heats up, he’s blushing furiously over it.

Of course Danneel notices, too, looks at him even more thoughtful than before. She keeps her face blank, though. She’s good at that, and he has a hard time reading her. It’s annoying, how they’re both actors, yet he never manages to do that. It’s the same with Misha, really. Misha’s got this expressive face and eyes, yet he can shut it down completely, no trace visible of whatever his thoughts are behind the mask. Jensen, on the other hand, seems to wear his heart on his sleeves, an open book for everyone, no matter how stoic he tries to be.

He attempts to recover from what he knows is him being awkward and obvious, and shrugs with the phone still clutched in his hand. “Maybe later. Don’t think he’s going to want to be reminded of Supernatural right now.”

He makes as if to turn and leave the room when his wife’s quiet voice calls him back. “It’s not about work and we both know it.”

Jensen freezes in mid-motion. “Uhh.“

"You’ve been friends, you and Misha. For years now.”

Oh, yes, friends. They’ve been friends. He relaxes slightly. “Yeah, you know how it is…” he shrugs.

“Yes, Jensen. I know how it is.” There’s a steely resolve in his wife’s voice that makes him turn all the way back to her.

“You, umm,” he says eloquently.

“Yes. I _know_.”

He frantically gulps in some air through a suddenly too tight throat.

“Want to sit down before you pass out?” Danneel asks with raised eyebrows.

“I… No,” he gets out, because his flight instinct is kicking in. He wants out of this conversation. He wanted out of it ten minutes ago. But then, this is his wife. She’s just going to follow him around until she’s gotten out of him what she wants to talk about. Fuck. “Danny, there’s nothing to know, I swear.”

It’s true, too. He hasn’t seen Misha since the last con. Hasn’t talked to him. Hasn’t – well, he can’t say he hasn’t thought about him. He’s done that quite a lot. Constantly, actually. How he had looked like in Chicago. Happy and buzzed in the beginning. A little more buzzed than Jensen for once, his mask not quite as tight as usual. Or maybe that had been on purpose. Maybe he had wanted to show Jensen the love and the want that had lit up his eyes and had made Jensen stumble over his words and over his own feet.

It wasn’t even the tweet. He could have lived with that. But then Misha had surged forward, kissing him with all his might. It had just been one kiss. One kiss that now features in both his wet dreams and his nightmares. Misha’s warmth against him, his hip boring into him, his tongue sliding into his mouth. Demanding entrance, demanding attention, hooking Jensen and hauling him in like a fish on the line.

For a long moment, that had been all there was to the world. For a long moment, he had let himself sink into Misha’s warmth. Then he had shoved him backwards, hard. Misha had stumbled over the edge of the table, knocked flat on his ass. There was a moment of confusion in his eyes, of hurt and betrayal. Then the mask slid into place. That was the worst part. That Jensen was left reeling while Misha calmly got back up from the floor, brushing the crinkles out of his clothes. ‘It’s time for you to go. You have to get up early.’ There wasn’t even a particular inflection to the words. Like he had brushed off what had happened with the dust from his clothes, and was ready to move on.

So Jensen had fled. From the room, from their friendship, from whatever else it was that had been happening between them.

“I’ve just been on the phone with Vicki before you came in.” His wife says it as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“What?” Jensen chokes on his own spit, and Danneel actually has to wait until he has stopped coughing and can breathe again before answering.

“I’ve talked to Misha, too, the other day. Not long and not about you if that makes you feel any better.”

It doesn’t. Sitting down definitely sounds like a good idea now, because he’s suddenly feeling light-headed. “You have…” He lets himself sink down in the armchair across from Danneel.

“He’s miserable,” Danneel informs him. “Sounds miserable, makes miserable bitter unfunny jokes and drives Vicki insane.”

“Oh,” is all that Jensen knows to say.

Danneel raises her eyebrows. “’Oh?’ That’s all you have to say? ‘Oh?’ Really, Jensen?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest for good measure.

Jensen nervously licks his lips. He’s so in over his head in this conversation. “I – what do you want me to say?”

“To me? Nothing. But this is your fault. So get your shit together and call him.”

“My fault?” he squeaks, and damn he needs to get his voice under control. “I have no idea what you’re talking ab…”

Danneel levels him with such a hard glare that the words die on his tongue.

He looks away, tries to collect himself and starts anew. “Mish and I, we’re –“ but there is no end to that sentence, either. We’re good? They’re not, and they both know it. We’re friends? Not anymore. “He’s really miserable?” And that sounds suspiciously like hope even in his own ears.

Danneel nods, “Worse than he’s been in a long time, according to Vicki. And she mumbled something angry about him being a masochist and not treating his body right and about him cutting himself back when he was a teen.”

“Yeah, he did that,” Jensen confirms because he knows the story, and he’s seen the scars on Misha’s thighs. Then his heart grows cold as fear clutches at him. “He’s not doing anything stupid, is he?”

Danneel levels him with another stare. “You’d know if you called him.”

“Danny, I -,” panic makes his palms sweaty just thinking about it, “I don’t think I’m someone he wants to talk to right now.”

“I disagree.” She says it firmly but then her face softens into a smile. It’s a tiny lopsided thing that has nothing to do with mirth but it’s warm anyway. “You’re the only person he wants to talk to right now. Though you might have to work to make him understand that.”

“Danny.” His head is spinning. Is his wife honestly telling him to call the guy he’s been harboring a crush on for the past few years and make up with him?

“Jensen, honey,” Danneel sighs. “Do you remember what we talked about before we got married?”

He stares at her blankly. They have talked about a lot of things before they got married.

“About how getting married doesn’t mean we own each other?” she prompts.

And oh, he remembers that. He nods.

“You’ve been off since you came back from Chicago. Took me a while to figure it out. Wasn’t until I noticed that you hadn’t mentioned Misha in over a month. Not once. Not even in passing. So I called Vicki and asked.”

Jensen swallows hard. Misha doesn’t keep secrets from his wife. Not even about crushes. Not even when he acts on them. They have rules about this. So Vicki knows. “What did she tell you?” he asks, voice fearful and small.

"Nothing that I hadn’t figured out on my own yet,” Danneel says softly. “But she explained it to me. The thing they do. The polyamory thing. How they make it work for themselves.”

His blood is so loud in his ears that he’s not sure he’s heard this right. “Polyamory?” he stutters.

“Jen, I know that you know what that word means. It’s not like we’ve never discussed the possibility.”

“In theory,” he protests weakly.

“Yeah, and you’ve fucked it up in practice quite a bit already. You were an ass towards me by not telling me. And you were an ass towards him, leading him on and then shutting him down when you obviously have a huge crush on him.”

“I don’t have -,” but that’s another lie, isn’t it? “Okay, maybe I do. But Danny, hun, I love you.”

“I know,” Danneel nods. “But I’ve wanted to kick your ass more often than not in these past few months. And believe me when I say that I notice when my lover is distracted. The few times I actually managed to make you forget your brooding long enough that we got there.”

And the heat is right back in his face. “I’m sorry, Danny,” he whispers.

“Don’t be,” she shakes her head resolutely. “Make it right instead.”

He looks at her flabbergasted. “You really want me to call him?”

“You’re glum. He’s heartbroken. You’re driving the rest of the world crazy with it. Mainly Vicki and me. You need to work this out. And if I was you, I’d try to do this before you see him at a public place.”

Jensen feels like his world has been tilted 180°. “But I don’t even – I don’t even know what to say.”

“Then figure it out. What you want from him. How you’re going to make it up to him. But for God’s sake, tell him!”

“But – “

“Jensen Ackles,” Danneel interrupts, “you’re _not_ Dean Winchester. You _will_ manage to talk about your feelings.”

“But, Danneel,” he whines, “- and how are you even okay with this?”

Danneel’s eyes turn softer again. “Oh honey.”

She comes over to where he sits in his armchair and hugs him tightly. He grabs at her, drawing her down until she’s sitting in his lap. She gives him a gentle peck on the lips.

“I love you, Jen, and I want to see you happy. You’re happier with him in your life, any idiot can see that.” She leans her forehead against his. “Promise me something, though.”

“Anything.”

“No more lying. No going behind my back. You keep me updated. Not on the details, but on where you and Misha stand. Okay?”

“Understood,” Jensen nods against his wife’s skin.

“Good.” She kisses him again, a little more forceful this time and he leans into it, soaking up her love like a sponge. Finally, she breaks the kiss and pushes out of his embrace. “Now call him, you moron.”

 

**The call**

Jensen paces. He’s been pacing for the last 20 minutes. He’s spent about ten of them trying to actually call Misha. The current call just went to voice mail. Again. For the fourth time.

The thing is, Misha never lets his cell phone out of his sight. Even Cas has the damn thing in his pocket. Or had, Jensen should say. Seeing that Cas is dead.

“Come on, Misha,” Jensen grumbles and hits dial for the fifth time. “I know you’re there.”

The phone rings, again. That’s the weird thing. Jensen’s not blocking his caller ID. So Misha knows it’s him. Assuming he still carries his phone everywhere, he’s now sat through four times of Jensen’s call ringing to the end. Without declining the calls or turning his phone off.

The ring tone cuts off. But instead of the friendly voice telling him that the person he’s been calling is not available at the moment, there’s just static.

“Misha?” Jensen says hesitantly. And yeah, that sounds like breathing on the other end of the line. “Misha, did you just stare at your phone for ten minutes while it was ringing and not take my call?”

There’s a female voice in the background. Jensen doesn’t really understand what is being said but it sounds suspiciously like Vicki telling her husband that a phone call only works if you actually talk.

Misha huffs and mutters, “I took the call now.”

Jensen sags in relief at hearing Misha’s voice. “Tell her thank you. It was Vicki who made you pick up the phone, wasn’t it?”

The answer is a grudging “Yes”, and then a “What do you want, Jensen?”

It sounds exasperated. Over the phone it’s even harder to tell than in person whether it’s an act or whether Misha is actually annoyed by his call.

“Uhh, I just wanted to check in, I guess.” It’s smooth as gravel. And seeing that he’s called four times before Misha picked up, he can’t really make this out as casual.

“Well, you have done that. Good-bye.” The sarcasm is virtually dripping through the line.

“Misha, wait!”

There’s silence on the other end of the line but the static is still there. Misha didn’t hang up. Why does this have to be so hard?

“God, I wish we could do this in person,” Jensen groans.

That is answered with more stoic silence. And yeah, reminding Misha that usually they would be seeing a lot of each other right now, what with the shooting for the season well under way, is probably not such a clever thing to do.

Jensen sighs. “I’m fucking this up, too, aren’t I?”

“Just tell me what you want, Jen.”

It sounds resigned but less angry than before. And the use of the nickname makes Jensen’s heart beat a little faster. Maybe there is hope.

“Ah, man, I – I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I kind of freaked out there.”

“Apology accepted. Can I hang up now?”

Jensen’s stomach clenches into a hard ball at the second dismissal in under two minutes. Still, “Of course you can. If that’s what you want.”

There’s more silence and then a quiet “Fuck you, Jen.”

Jensen lets out a small breath of relief. “Thank you for giving me a chance,” he answers.

Misha snorts derisively. But he’s still on the line, so that’s got to be enough for now.

Jensen swallows hard. Meeting up would be so much easier for this. But he’s broken what they had so he needs to fix them. “I miss you, man. Every day.” He cringes at the stiltedness of his own words. They’d had such an easy rapport with each other before all of this went down.

“You sure you’re not confusing yourself with Dean Winchester again?” Misha asks spitefully.

The words are designed to hurt, and they do, but as good an actor as Misha is, the spite doesn’t cover the pain.

“You never let me forget long enough that you’re more of a smartass and less of an angel, don’t worry. I won’t start praying to you anytime soon.”

This time, the snort sounds more like a startled laugh even if it gets suppressed quickly. One point for Team Ackles.

But by the time he actually answers, Misha has schooled his voice into careful indifference again. “What’s it then, Jensen? What do you want of me?”

“You,” Jensen answers bluntly. “I want you.”

“And what does that even mean? Do you even know yourself?” The exasperation is back in Misha’s voice. “You want me as a friend? Fine, you’ve got me. It’s not like we’re going to run into each other more than any other ‘friends’ in this business.”

The air quotes are audible but for now Jensen ignores that part of the statement. “No,” he shakes his head, “I don’t want us to be friends. I want us to be more than that.”

 The pain is obvious in Misha’s voice when he answers. “We’ve tried that out. It got me knocked on my ass. Literally.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Jensen apologizes. “Not my best moment.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Misha shrugs dismissively. “I’ve been beaten up worse for kissing a guy. My fault for thinking that with you it might be different.”

Jensen grimaces at the words. Misha has unerring aim when it comes to dealing out blows. They’re rarely physical, but Jensen thinks he’d take physical punches over this. “You want to get me back for that, do it.”

“And mar Dean Winchester’s pretty face? No, thanks, I’ll decline. I can’t afford that law suit. Besides, I’ve been out of middle school for a while.”

“Well, you can always say I sexually assaulted you. I mean, you’d get me back after letting me kiss you, right?” He tries to keep his tone light and teasing, but there’s too much hope in the words that he can’t keep out.

Of course there’s no answer. He doesn’t think he’s ever known Misha to be as quiet as today. There’s no quip, not even a sarcastic comment. Just breathing that is a little too shallow. Fuck. Danneel wasn’t exaggerating when she said Misha was in a bad place.

“I’ll work for it, Mish,” Jensen pleads, all teasing drained out of him. “I’ll earn back your trust. I know that I need to. But I’ll work until you’ve forgiven me. And then I’m going to kiss you and – just hope that you won’t punch me I guess,” he trails off.

“How’s that even supposed to work, Jen? We’re mostly on different ends of the continent anyway,” Misha says quietly. It sounds less bitter but a lot sadder.

“You’ll be back, Mish, you’ll see. The fans love Cas way too much for them not to bring you back. _I_ love you way too much.”

“Jensen…”

But this time he doesn’t let Misha fall back into his gloom. “No, Mish. I mean it. I’ve already talked to them. Jared has, too. I know we only have so much influence. But – Dean kept the trench coat, you know?”

There is a long pause after that. Then, “You’re such a sap.” For the first time, there is something like a smile in Misha’s voice.

Jensen breathes another sigh of relief, and allows himself a small smile of his own when he answers, “Only for you and Danny. Everyone else, it’s all blue steel.”

He does his best Dean Winchester for the second part, and he can almost hear Misha roll his eyes while he huffs his laughter. It’s at Jensen’s expense, sure, but he couldn’t care less. He’s too proud that he’s managed to make Misha laugh.

It also gives him the courage to ask, “Misha? Tell me honestly, how are you doing?”

The laughter is immediately gone.

“I know it’s none of my business but Danneel and Vicki talk with each other and – they are worried, Mish.”

“They don’t need to be,” Misha says gruffly. “I’ve gotten over worse than you.”

And he probably deserves that, but “Come on, man. I’m trying here.”

“You’re the one who left, remember?” Misha bites.

And yeah, he does, but this one, he doesn’t deserve. “You shut me out first. Put on your mask and brushed of your clothes like nothing had happened. That hurt, man. That fucking hurt.”

"You mean after the kiss,” Misha states somewhat dazed, like he’s never even thought about this moment before.

“Yeah, man, after the kiss. You know, the one where I freaked?” Jensen can’t hold back an eye-roll of his own.

“But -,” Misha seems at a loss. “The tweet?”

“Oh fuck it, Misha, I don’t care about the tweet. I mean, I don’t like it, and you did it knowing that I wouldn’t like it. But what the hell, people are going to make up stories anyway. Long as Danneel and Vicki are okay with this, I’m good.”

“Then why _did_ you freak?” Misha sounds honestly confused now.

Jensen breaks into half-hysterical laughter. “I have a wife, in case you haven’t noticed. And not one that I’ve ever tried the polyamory thing out with in practice. And you’re – you’re a guy. And a co-worker. And I don’t usually,” he stumbles over his words, so he takes a deep breath and starts anew. “I’ve had a crush on you for forever, you idiot. Never thought we’d take it any further, though.”

“Cause I’m a guy,” Misha probes.

“Yes. And because you’re weird and brilliant and artsy and political and generally awesome, and you have all these plans to change the world, and I’m a fucking child-model turned actor. Your very definition of shallow.”

“You’re not shallow, Jen,” Misha huffs.

Jensen rubs a hand over his face. This line of argument is not getting them anywhere. “Misha? Can I ask you a question?”

“I guess so,” Misha answers cautiously.

"What am I to you?”

“What?”

“Am I your friend, your co-worker, your hot co-worker who you’re trying to score? Your ex-acquaintance who you want to forget? I can’t tell anymore. So, please, Mish. Tell me. What am I to you?”

Misha’s voice is soft when he asks back, “Are you asking me whether I fell in love with you?”

Jensen gulps. Because that’s it. That’s the all or nothing question. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m asking.”

It takes an endless moment before Misha replies. “Horribly so,” he confirms. “I didn’t remember it hurt quite as much.”

Relief washes over Jensen in a wave that makes his whole body shudder. “Thank God,” he says, “That’s good. I mean, not that you’re hurting. But the in love part. Cause I fell in love with you, too.”

There is a long stretch of silence after the admission.

Finally, it’s Jensen who breaks it. “Since we’re both in love, should we – try this again?”

“Jensen…” Misha sighs.

“Don’t,” Jensen interrupts him before he can say anything else. “Don’t say No right now. Let me show you that I mean it. That I can work my issues out. Without taking them out on you.”

“Jensen,” the pain is so clear in Misha’s voice that it makes Jensen flinch. “I can’t do this again. You can’t give me hope and then pull the rug out from under me.”

“I won’t.” And because his word is not enough right this second, he adds, “Come on, man, you know that Vicki and Danneel would kill me. And bring me back to life just to kill me again.”

That elicits another snort, which is at least better than the unadulterated pain. “You’re mistaking yourself for Dean again.”

“Never,” Jensen shakes his head. “I won’t deny that you’re hot as fuck as Castiel, but you’re the one I want, Mish. All your quirks, all your sarcastic wise-assery. All of you.”

“You are aware that that’s a pretty gay thing to say, right?”

The question is testing, calculating, and Jensen has to take another deep breath. “I’m not Dean Winchester. I don’t need to be uber-macho manly.”

“You’re from Texas,” Misha points out.

“Yeah, and I’m not in favor of discussing my sexuality on Jay Leno. But Mish, you know you’re not the first guy I ever had feelings for. Or kissed, for that matter. You’re just –” but he has no idea how to explain it. How his feelings for his friend had snuck up on him until they hit him over the head one day a few years ago. How he’d thought he could keep his crush in check and not act on it. How he’d thought he could have light and fun and no strings attached, and how it all had somehow come to a head at that con, and he’d suddenly known that he was as far away from unattached as you could get. “You’re more than a fling, Mish, you know that, right?”

“And that’s what makes this complicated?” Misha asks, comprehension dawning in his voice.

“Yeah,” Jensen nods, relieved that Misha understands.

“I hear you,” Misha sighs. “You could at least try to be a little less perfect, you know? Dial down that Southern boy charm, lose a few of those muscles, surgically remove the freckles…”

“The minute you lose those runner's thighs and shave off that bedhead of yours.”

Misha’s voice is small when he answers. “I have pretty much stopped running. And eating…”

“Misha,” Jensen’s heart immediately clenches.

“I know, I know. My coping mechanisms suck. Vicki tells me the same.” Misha sighs again. “I’m glad you called, Jen.”

“Yeah, I’m glad, too,” Jensen agrees and can’t even begin to say how much.

“I promised Vicki to eat dinner with her. I need to go.”

The fact that Misha sounds unhappy about ending their call in turn makes Jensen happy. “Okay,” he nods. “Text me later?”

“As long as you don’t want me to give you a detailed list of what I ate like she does…”

"No,” Jensen shakes his head. “I’d just like to talk to you.”

“Okay then,” Misha agrees softly.

“And I can call you again tomorrow? Or sometime later this week if tomorrow doesn’t work for you?”

“Yes, Jen.” And that’s definitely a small smile in his voice. “Just call me whenever.”

“Tomorrow then,” Jensen nods. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Yeah,” Misha replies. “Me, too.”

They hang up and Jensen slumps back against the wall. He’s both exhausted because that had been fucking difficult, and giddy because, hey, it’s definitely a better place than they had been in this morning. He has to go buy his wife a huge bouquet of flowers as thank you.

But not before he hasn’t made one more call. He searches through his contacts and hits dial.

“Hey McG, this is Jensen Ackles. I’ve already talked about this with Sera and Bob but on the topic of everyone’s favorite angel..."


End file.
